Poetry

The Something To Speak Of

I will be a potion maker,

I believe she will.

I will tailor make my world,

Even God she’ll kill.

All the Things Translucent,

She never wants to leave,

Never go away she pleads,

Never will I leave.

But you’ll die, she replies

I fart, we both laugh.

You wrench my heart more than words,

More than angel

More than calf.

Could this gift, could it be? “The

Something, to speak of”.

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